As Time Goes By
by cmaddict
Summary: MacStella. Time is a funny thing.


**A/N: **Here's another fairly fluffy, somewhat angsty song fic for you all. This was one of those plots that just started out as a little inkling, then grew into a tickle, then just exploded into words on a page. It started out completely different, but I like how it turned out. Hope you will too.

**Many thousands of thanks **to _lily moonlight_ for reading over this piece and listening so patiently as I bounce wild idea after wild idea off her.

**Disclaimer_: _**If I owned _CSI:NY_, Mac and Stella would've gotten together back in season 1 and there would've definitely been no Peyton.

**Lyrics**: "As Time Goes By" from that wonderful classic _Casablanca_

**As Time Goes By**

The little jazz club is nestled between two warehouses in SoHo, far away from the usual upscale, popular places scattered around town. It doesn't look like much from the outside: thin wooden door, one blue neon light outside to let people know where it is, old red brick exterior covered in the usual grime of the city. Tonight though the door lays propped open, allowing the cool June evening air breeze through the club.

Inside is dimly lit. Smoke twists and swirls through the room, the scent of tobacco mingling with the heady smell of alcohol. A young man tends the bar, chatting quietly with a couple of the customers sitting on the comfortable stools. The band on the stage is small, consisting of just a piano, a stand-up bass, and percussion, softly playing the jazz standards. The rest of the club is fairly empty. Just a few patrons sit at the tall tables at the center of the club, and the booths along the wall are unoccupied.

Save one.

She waits in a booth at the back, sipping on a white wine. Her hazel-green eyes never leave the door, as if she's expecting her companion to step into the club at any moment. Dark brown curls glow caramel in the dim light, reflecting the flickering candle on the table. A long, slim finger taps the half-empty wine glass in front of her, the only sign of building impatience.

Her eyes travel to the watch adorning her slender wrist. Seconds slowly tick away in time with the sultry music filling the club.

Time.

Time is a funny thing. Hours, minutes, seconds on a clock. The movement of the sun across the heavens. Changing months on a calendar. Ticking, ticking away.

Nothing on earth has been studied more than time. Doctors try to figure out how to move faster than it does. Women try to figure out how to stop it. Theologians try to understand how to use it in the most profitable way. Philosophers try to expound on its connection to what is real and what is illusion. Historians try to comprehend how the past affects the future. It is the one thing that the wealthiest man on earth can't buy. The one commodity available to everyone, but highly underused. Friendly to some, cruel to others. The one thing that slips through every person's fingers, and then it's gone forever.

It has been that way since it began many, many eons ago. Some things never change. She remembers reading somewhere that everything on earth goes in cycles, from weather to love to fashion. Nothing is new under the sun.

Her life has been much of the same old thing as the lives of others. Joy, heartache, pain, and an occasional burst of happiness, all filled with the understanding that life and time are precious. And so she treasures the happy memories. Like the day she met her partner and best friend for the first time.

"_Mac Taylor?"_

_Blue eyes travel up from the piles of paperwork scattered around his desk. She's struck by his handsome face, that strong line of his jaw, those dark locks cut short in a military style, those deep blue-gray eyes filled with integrity. In that moment, she knows more about him than he probably realizes. "Yeah?"_

_She sticks out her right hand, letting it hover over his desk. "Stella Bonasera. I'm the new CSI."_

_He sizes her up for a moment until a faint smile plays at the corners of his mouth, and he reaches out to take her hand in his. "It's a pleasure to meet you."_

It's been more than ten years now. Ten short years. Years filled with everything under the sun. Laughter. Loss. Pain. Joy. Happiness. Arguments. Make-ups.

In her life men have come and gone as time goes by. Yet he is the one constant, the one man she can count on for anything. A smile when she's down, a hug when she needs one, a stern reprimand when she's gone out of line.

She's read the story thousands of times as a little girl. Girl meets boy. Girl befriends boy. Boy and girl grow closer and closer together, sharing secrets from the darkest parts of their souls. Boy and girl begin to rely on one another for everything – for laughter, for sympathy, for a shoulder to cry on, for life itself. Their trust grows deeper until they can read what the other is thinking without saying a word.

She supposes that the rest of the age-old story she read when she was a little girl is inevitable. Girl realizes that the feelings she feels for that boy go deeper and more intimate than simple friendship. She's tried to push them down, to somehow make them cease their existence. She's tried to look at him as a friend and a partner, nothing more and nothing less.

But it hasn't worked. And the longer she suppresses them, the more intense they become. Time doesn't necessarily heal everything.

There hasn't been much in her time under the sun that she actually regrets. Sure, she hasn't had the life that most people envy. Life in an orphanage wasn't the best in the world, and life in foster care certainly wasn't better. She's been beaten, kidnapped, shot at, and nearly burned to death. She's been nearly killed by one boyfriend and played by a psycho stalker. But oddly enough, she finds that she doesn't regret those things. In fact, she welcomes them. Because they've made her who she is. They've made her tough and strong, but understanding that sometimes she's allowed to be weak. They've made her know who her friends really are, who she can count on when things go bad. They've made her appreciate life.

But there's one thing that she knows she'll regret if she doesn't say anything.

As the music slowly builds to its crescendo, she looks back to the door. A familiar silhouette stands next to the bar. And then it slowly looks her way. Blue-gray eyes sparkle in the dim illumination as they alight on her. She smiles back at him, ignoring the little flutter her heart makes just at the sight of him.

He looks more handsome than she ever thought possible in the candlelight. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up muscular forearms. His dark hair is tousled from the light breeze outside. And though there's the usual weariness in his eyes, there's happiness too.

"I don't suppose you're waiting for someone," he says softly.

She shrugs, enjoying the teasing glint in his eyes. "Well, I was, but it seems as though he's forgotten how to tell time."

He chuckles and slides into the booth next to her. "Sorry, Stella. I got caught up in the case." The bartender appears at the head of the table, and he orders an Irish coffee. She smiles just a little. Some things really do never change.

"How is it?"

"The case?" She nods, and he leans back against the cushioned booth and sighs. "Got a hit from AFIS on that print we lifted from the jewelry case. Came back to Ken Hayes, convicted of robbing another jewelry store five years ago."

Stella raises her eyebrows thoughtfully. "Nice."

"We thought so too. Busted him outside of Long Island City and he didn't even wait until we got back to the precinct to start confessing."

"I like it when they make our job easier."

Mac laughs, a sound that makes her smile widen. "Me too."

In that moment, the bartender brings over Mac's Irish coffee. He accepts it with a smile and a thank-you, and the bartender smiles gratefully before heading back to the bar. She watches as he takes a sip of the hot brew, and immediately she sees the exhaustion in his eyes fade. It's nice to see him relaxed for once. He's always working too hard, driven by an abiding sense of justice and integrity. Usually she only sees him this carefree when he's playing his bass at his club, but the fact that he can kick back around her is just a sign of their close friendship.

He sets the drink back on the table and folds his arms across his chest, regarding her with a glint in his eyes. "How was court today?"

She grins at him. "Sleazy defense attorneys, bored juries, and a CSI trying desperately to stay awake during the prosecutor's droll opening statements."

"That good, huh?"

They share a laugh, and she shakes her head, curls tumbling over her shoulders. "Even the judge got so bored he called it a day before two o'clock."

"Good day all around, then."

She smiles at him, and then the nervousness begins to well up in her chest like the incoming tide. She fiddles with the stem of the goblet, drumming her fingers nervously against the glass.

He notices, just like he usually does, and immediately sits straight up. He rests his elbows on the table and studies her. "Something wrong, Stel?"

And there's that nickname she loves so much. Everyone calls her that, but Mac started it, years ago. For her, it's like being part of the family. She sighs and meets his irises, noting how dark they look in the low lighting. "No… I mean…" She sighs again, frustrated at how edgy she's suddenly become. "I didn't ask you here just for the mood music."

"I figured that," he retorts with a smile.

"I was thinking the other day… about time."

"Time?"

She nods once and looks down at the table. But she still feels his gaze on her. "About how short it is. And how it goes so quickly."

One of her hands rests on the table, and suddenly she feels the heavy, warm weight of his hand on hers. It's calloused and rough, but gentle and safe. "What brought this on? What's the matter, Stella?"

Now's her chance.

She opens her mouth and starts to say something, but suddenly a set of familiar piano chords interrupts her. The well-known strains of music, first made popular in a Humphrey Bogart movie so many years ago, waft through the room.

His gaze meets hers again, and a small smile plays on his lips. "'As Time Goes By'," he says softly. "One of my favorites."

"Mine too."

Several couples get up from their tables and go to the dance floor in the center of the bar. He looks back at her and their eyes meet again, steel blue on hazel green. "Wanna dance?" he asks.

She stares at him, mouth agape. He doesn't dance. Well, usually he doesn't. And he's certainly never asked her, not in all their years of friendship. She doesn't know why, but she nods.

A bright smile spreads over his face. He slides out of the booth and holds out his hand to her. She swallows once and hesitates just for a moment. But his warm smile and soft eyes entice her to join him, and she can't resist. So she reaches out and places her hand in his, allowing him to help her out of the booth. Her hand stays cradled in his as he leads her to the dance floor.

_You must remember this,__  
A kiss is still a kiss  
__A sigh is still a sigh  
__The fundamental things apply  
As time goes by_

The lead singer's smooth voice floats through the room. The pair stops in the middle of the floor, surrounded by other couples in their own little worlds. He turns to her, the smile never leaving his face, and takes a step closer to her, so close she can smell his cologne.

One hand slides around her waist, skimming her ribs and coming to rest at the small of her back. She goes willingly when he pulls her into his body, heat emanating from him in waves, mingling with hers. Her hand wraps around his broad shoulders, the other hand clasping his lightly. He rests their conjoined hands against his chest and gives her another smile.

Slowly they begin to move in time with the music. Neither picks up their feet. They just sway back and forth, back and forth, slowly and sweetly, letting the world around them fade into the background, taking part in an age-old ritual dating back to the dawn of humanity. Time seems to slow as they hold each other in a tight embrace.

Her scarred fingers brush against the smooth fabric of his shirt, just above his heart where she knows he has his own scars. Time heals certain wounds, physical and emotional scars left behind by simply living. She knows she has her own demons, nightmares of ex-boyfriends and raging infernos. He has his - bombs going off, words left unsaid, buildings collapsing to the ground. Time heals the physical scars, but for both of them the emotional scars are buried too far inside the soul. Maybe this is why she knows they belong together. Throughout the years he's been there for her and she's been there for him. Holding each other in their darkest moments.

Taking a risk, she lays her head on his shoulder, facing his neck. She breathes in his unique scent deeply and exhales, and his hold on her waist tightens to bring her even closer. He gently sets his cheek against hers, evening stubble softly scratching her chin, lips right next to her ear. They whisper across the corner of her jaw meets her neck, pressing a gentle kiss there. Her breath hitches in her throat.

Suddenly she feels his chest rumble and she hears his voice in her ear, soft and deep.

_And when two lovers woo  
__They still say 'I love you'__  
On that you can rely  
__No matter what the future brings  
As time goes by_

Her eyes spring open, and she barely bites back a gasp. He's singing. Mac is singing in her ear as they're dancing. She's never heard him sing in all the years she's known him.

But the realization is suddenly lost as the hand on her back moves lower. Slowly his fingers brush against the hem of her shirt, seeking out any bare skin at her lower back. He finds some, and she feels his warm fingers dance across her flesh. Her heart skips a beat in the midst of its ricochets against her ribcage. For just a second, she thinks that maybe it's been the same for him as it's been for her. Maybe he's dreaded the nights spent alone, the furtive glances, the wishful fantasizing about time together.

He stops moving all of the sudden, and she feels him squeeze her hand lightly. He pulls back just a little, and she lifts her head off his shoulder. Blue meets green once again, and he smiles. There's something behind his eyes that she can't place, a look she hasn't ever seen him offer her. But he leans forward again, and his breath tickles her ear. She suppresses a shiver at the contact.

"Why don't we get out of here?" he whispers in her ear.

All she can do is nod in reply.

He turns her hand over in his, interlacing their fingers, sending tingles up her arm. He leads her back to their table and picks up her purse, giving it to her with a smile. Without releasing her hand, he gently pulls her toward the open door. The bartender smiles at them both when Mac tosses a twenty on the bar. It's a knowing smirk, and she can't help but wonder if over the years he's given that smile to hundreds of other couples just like them.

The air outside is cool and wet, heavy with the prospect of an impending storm, releasing the smells of New York in summertime into the atmosphere. The streets are empty of pedestrians. It's just the two of them, walking in silence, hand-in-hand like two lovers from another time and another place, not looking at all like two colleagues and friends.

Gently he squeezes her hand and glances down at her. "What was it you were saying in there? About time?"

She sighs. She's been hoping he'd forgotten about that, content to just bask in the comfort of being near each other. Now she realizes how ridiculous that thought was. He doesn't forget. He never has.

"Stella?"

She meets his eyes again, those deep blue orbs containing a mixture of confusion and affection. She feels nervousness and fear suddenly well up within her. What if he rejects her? What if he doesn't feel the same as she does?

But though his eyes are questioning, they're gentle. And she knows if she doesn't say it now, it might never be said.

So she takes a deep breath and dives in. "You know how a while back, we said that we were going to make the most of the time we have here?"

A slight smile appears at the corners of his mouth and he nods. "I remember."

"I was thinking. About time." She sighs again and releases his hand to run her fingers through her curls.

He waits for a moment as she gathers her thoughts, then grins as he says, "Yeah, I think we got that far earlier."

She glares at him for just a moment and shakes her head. "Don't get cute."

He chuckles and puts up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. Keep going."

"Mac, I… we're not getting any younger. I'm not getting any younger. I don't regret my past or anything, but I feel like time's slipping away."

"Stel –"

She holds up her hand to cut him off. She knows what he's going to say, that she's going to find somebody one day and everything's going to be better. But she doesn't want to find anybody else. She wants to be with him.

"Mac, I realized that… I will regret my life if I don't tell you some things." His brow knits together, but she plunges forward. "I have to tell you… I love you. I've loved you for years, and I can't bear to let another day go by without telling you."

His eyes are wide, and he runs a hand over his face. "Stella –"

"Look, I don't expect anything out of you. I know that things are complicated with work and our friendship. But I can't pretend any more, and I can't suppress these feelings for you any more. I can't let time go by without letting you know."

"Stella –"

Tears slowly fill her eyes, but she can't stop. Now that it's out in the open, there's no stopping the flood. "Please, don't tell me that you want things to go back to the way they were. I can't do that. I don't blame you if you don't feel the same –"

Suddenly she feels his hands on her face, cupping her cheeks, forcing her to look him in the eyes. His thumb gently brushes along her cheekbone, brushing away the tear trickling down her face. "Will you let me say something now?" he whispers, smiling softly at her.

She nods slowly. Her eyes flutter closed when one of his fingers trails down her jaw line to her chin, tilting her face up toward his. She feels his breath on her lips, warm and tinged with the scent of coffee. Her eyes open again, straight into his gentle gaze.

"I don't want things to go back to the way they were either," he whispers. "I've only wanted one thing for years."

Part of her is afraid to ask, but she can't help herself. "What?"

"You."

Then he closes the gap between them. His lips gently capture hers, slowly pressing against them in just a whisper of a kiss. Her hands automatically fist in the fabric of his shirt, and her eyes slowly close again, savoring the feel of his lips on hers.

He slowly pulls back, his rough hands still cupping her face, and she almost moans at the loss of contact. Her eyes slowly open, connecting with his, lost in his darkened, glazed irises. "I love you too," he murmurs, just before his lips crash against hers again.

Everything around her simply disappears as if time suddenly stands still. Seconds cease to beat, lost in the tide of the realization that has been years in coming. Her arms wrap around his waist as his hands slide through her curls to the back of her head. His lips move against hers in a sensual dance that began eons ago, and she responds with an intensity that makes her go weak at the knees, clinging to his hard body. Her mouth opens to his on a sigh, and when his tongue brushes against hers, a fire like she's never known before explodes within her. She knows this one time will never be enough for either of them, and from the intensity of his kiss, he knows that too.

Finally, and only because every kiss eventually has to end, they pull apart, breathing hard. His hands move to her waist, settling on her hips, drawing her closer to him. Her arms wind around his neck, fingertips playing with the tiny hairs at the back of his skull. "Say it again," he whispers.

She smiles at him and stands on her tiptoes to brush a kiss against the corner of his jaw, just below his ear. "I love you," she sighs into his ear, and his arms tighten around her slender waist.

"All this time," he murmurs softly. "All this time, and we could've been happy together."

"It's okay," she replies, threading her fingers through his dark locks as she looks into his eyes. "Sometimes I think maybe it's better this way. Sweeter."

His lips drift over her cheekbone, and he nuzzles his nose into her neck before pulling away to look at her again. "So when should we start making the most of our time together?"

Stella quirks an eyebrow at him playfully and pretends to think for a moment. "How about now?" she suggests, running a hand down his bicep.

He grins and pulls her closer to his body, and a soft clap of thunder echoes through the air. A single raindrop splashes onto his shoulder. He presses a kiss to her temple and lets their eyes connect again. "Now, and for the rest of time."

_The world will always welcome lovers  
As time goes by_


End file.
